


Wasteland

by compos_dementis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No wasteland of ice and snow could ever compare to the warmth of America's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasteland

“Toris?”

 

He was used to the name by now in place of the playful “Liet” he usually heard. But he couldn’t place the voice just yet – it wasn’t Russia (_ne_, he knew Russia and this voice wasn’t it, not full of that false cheer that read ‘loneliness’ or the tone of a cat playing with a three-legged mouse), and it wasn’t Estonia or Latvia (both full of reason, both full of terror and trembling and on the verge of tears), and it wasn’t China or Ukraine or Belarus or any of the other guests and visitors that Russia usually had in his vast home.

 

This voice called that name – Toris – with a sense of hesitance, underlined with an urgency for him to wake.

 

“Toris, are you okay?”

 

Was he okay? He didn’t know. He knew that his head was throbbing with a dull stomping ache that made his vision swim unpleasantly when he opened his eyes to be greeted by blinding light. Toris knew that he had fallen asleep on the snow-blanketed flat of Russia’s front step with a deep gash in his side, but the snow around him served as a quick anesthesia.

 

(Belarus told him that her brother’s house was like a permanent sense of Christmas, and he just couldn’t gather the faith to notice. He didn’t deserve Ivan’s kindness and he knew it.)

 

He couldn’t feel his toes, or his side, and his eyes were aching as they worked to focus on the speaker.

 

Oh. Yes, this would be the one to rescue his damsel-in-distress self from the clutches of hypothermia, wouldn’t it?

 

“How long… h-how long have I been as-asleep?” Toris stammered out, though from fear or shivering he’d never know.

 

America’s face wasn’t like Toris remembered it, sitting in the back of the conference room and pretending to listen to the lectures he gave on global warming (a giant space robot to shield the earth) or world hunger (just create the serum to create giant food – no one will ever be hungry again) and other such topics that really would solve themselves, given time. No, America’s face was much kinder than he thought it would be. It wasn’t like Russia’s in the slightest – this face had the soft and youthful features of a nation barely out of his teens, and his shoulders were broad but thin under his bomber jacket.

 

Blue-sky eyes watched him in concern. “About a day and a half,” America replied. “I was starting to get worried… you okay, man? Went to go talk to Russia about our weapons, and saw you on the doorstep… you don’t look so good.”

 

Toris went to sit up but got dizzy and had to lie back down. The bed he was in was large and comfortable, if a bit worn, and the sheets had been fabric softened out of recognition, making it feel like he was sleeping on a very warm cloud. He gathered the comforter in his shaking hands and pulled it further up, balling under the covers.

 

“I-I-I’m fine,” he managed, but felt embarrassed because he realized he was shirtless – oh, Dievas, perfect, shirtless in a world power’s house. “Um… um, why am I…?”

 

America’s eyebrows furrowed for a minute before he seemed to realize. “Oh! Oh, your shirt?” Toris nodded. “Yeah, uh, well, you seemed to be hurt, and I brought you here to give you some first aid…” When America leaned forward, reaching for him, Toris instinctively flinched back with his arms coming up to cover his face.

 

“Don’t--!”

 

But America’s hand just pulled the cover back a little and pointed to the bandages now wrapped around Toris’s middle. “See? Just first aid stuff. What…” He quieted a little; Toris lowered his arms, breath catching. “Russia did that to you, right?”

 

He wasn’t sure if he should answer that or not. “I… t-_taip_, but it’s no big deal, I mean…” Toris couldn’t stand that look on America’s face. Behind his glasses, the eyes were pitying and held a longing to help. “I’ve… I’ve been through worse.”

 

That didn’t help. America raised his eyebrows before his eyes narrowed, expression turning almost angry. It made Toris’s heart skip a beat and quicken its pace – he knew that look; it was one that led to nuclear war, and Toris prayed it wasn’t aimed at himself.

 

“Bastard,” the other growled a little, before his expression softened again. “Look, you don’t have to take crap from that guy as long as you’re here. I won’t ever… stab you or… whatever the fuck that psychopath does to you. You can take refuge here if you want.”

 

Refuge. The word was foreign as it settled in Toris’s mind. Stay here, with America, in cloudy beds and this house that smelled like cheap coffee and fast food… or go back to Russia, knowing that the giant would be awaiting his return with a sick smile and a lead pipe that hungered to come into contact with his skin.

 

He could take refuge here in this overcrowded country, or go back to the ice-and-snow loneliness of Russia.

 

“I… you’d let me stay here?”

 

“Yeah, of course I would.” America’s voice sounded almost desperate, actually. “You could stay here. I mean, I know you’re used to Russia’s house, but… you wouldn’t have to do anything here, really, besides maybe help clean up a little, or…” He shook his head. “Yeah, you can stay if you want to.”

 

Toris had never been offered refuge before. Had never… been tempted to leave Russia’s house, not since his younger days when he was full of anger and bloodthirst, when he and Feliks would tear down cities together, fight for the sake of fighting, go hand-in-hand and conquer.

 

And here was this child of a nation, extending his hands and offering sanctuary; and Lithuania, older and more broken that he’d ever been, was taking it.

 

“I want to… I want…” He felt the waver in his voice and his eyes welling with tears at the pure and untouched kindness of America’s words, and he was shaking again, sobbing because it was so…

 

America didn’t even hesitate to bring Toris into his arms and just hold him. “Stay with me.”

 

It was so _warm_ here.

 

No wasteland of ice and snow could ever compare to this.


End file.
